Sunday, April 30, 2006

I have been enjoying the posts of The Girl Who Ate Everythingtoday in my work breaks. She has somewhat of a sandwhich fetish, and I too being a bread lover got it into my head that I needed some deliciousness. Fortunately, Chris and I had purchased some such delicious ingredients in yesterdays shopping. So lunch today was two slices of wholemeal granary, lightly buttered, (extra special for the loaf being half price), some Branston's pickle, Mature Australian Cheddar cheese sliced thinly, cucumber and tomatoes. Chris sliced in beautifully into triangles so it even felt like we'd bought it from a deli. This was followed by scones I'd made last night at midnight when I'd got fed up with working. A cup of tea completed my lovely lunch.

Baking and cooking has become my touchstone a bit. I use it to relax. Especially kneading dough.

I have been enjoying the posts of The Girl Who Ate Everythingtoday in my work breaks. She has somewhat of a sandwhich fetish, and I too being a bread lover got it into my head that I needed some deliciousness. Fortunately, Chris and I had purchased some such delicious ingredients in yesterdays shopping. So lunch today was two slices of wholemeal granary, lightly buttered, (extra special for the loaf being half price), some Branston's pickle, Mature Australian Cheddar cheese sliced thinly, cucumber and tomatoes. Chris sliced in beautifully into triangles so it even felt like we'd bought it from a deli. This was followed by scones I'd made last night at midnight when I'd got fed up with working. A cup of tea completed my lovely lunch.

Baking and cooking has become my touchstone a bit. I use it to relax. Especially kneading dough.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

So here we have my bike filled Easter Monday. I went to Thruxton with Rob, his mum, and two friends from church. It was a great day, lovely and sunny in the most part, I got me some sunglasses for £5 that make me look uber cool, and I saw some amazing bike racing. We sat overlooking the wiggly chicane (It's a technical term you know - ;-) ) and there was some seriously daredevil over taking!

Great fun, especially the sea of bikes parked up in the fields and riding down in a sea of bikers.

So here we have my bike filled Easter Monday. I went to Thruxton with Rob, his mum, and two friends from church. It was a great day, lovely and sunny in the most part, I got me some sunglasses for £5 that make me look uber cool, and I saw some amazing bike racing. We sat overlooking the wiggly chicane (It's a technical term you know - ;-) ) and there was some seriously daredevil over taking!

Great fun, especially the sea of bikes parked up in the fields and riding down in a sea of bikers.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Like the end of a party, the hollow deflated feeling, like what I imagine post wedding or postpartum blues, the expectation the anticipation and then its gone and it wasn't ever going to be enough. Even though there's the future lovelyness, the immediate is gone.

I need my books, I need to be able to read again for enjoyment and not because I have to, because when I read I'm gone, and the world can come in instead. The remains of the day can comfort me. The remains of the day, I always loved that phrase, how dusk is the sweetest moment, filled with memories of your day's happiness.

I shall knit myself my own stripy jumper and be proud of it and use it like a pillow cover when it wears out, like I've used other jumpers to help lull me to sleep. The stripy one was the best.You don't know what you've got till it's gone eh? Pity not everyone learns that sooner rather than later. We should be born with such wisdom, the angels should never haven stolen that from us before birth.

I'm worried I'm slipping into some sort of depression, Rob has moaned that I'm never happy any more, and to be fair I don't think I have been for some time. There has been very little that has made me smile and far more to make me cry and for the life of me I cannot think of a good reason. Except for the shoddiest timing ever to befall me.

There is nothing wrong with me. How I wish there was in a way, because then there would be a reason for feeling like this. I'm relatively healthy, not overweight by much, pretty enough, intelligent enough, sucessful enough and by all rights I should be beaming.

I can't beam. Without you in my armsI feel so bad, because I can't give Rob reasons why I'm sad.

Like the end of a party, the hollow deflated feeling, like what I imagine post wedding or postpartum blues, the expectation the anticipation and then its gone and it wasn't ever going to be enough. Even though there's the future lovelyness, the immediate is gone.

I need my books, I need to be able to read again for enjoyment and not because I have to, because when I read I'm gone, and the world can come in instead. The remains of the day can comfort me. The remains of the day, I always loved that phrase, how dusk is the sweetest moment, filled with memories of your day's happiness.

I shall knit myself my own stripy jumper and be proud of it and use it like a pillow cover when it wears out, like I've used other jumpers to help lull me to sleep. The stripy one was the best.You don't know what you've got till it's gone eh? Pity not everyone learns that sooner rather than later. We should be born with such wisdom, the angels should never haven stolen that from us before birth.

I'm worried I'm slipping into some sort of depression, Rob has moaned that I'm never happy any more, and to be fair I don't think I have been for some time. There has been very little that has made me smile and far more to make me cry and for the life of me I cannot think of a good reason. Except for the shoddiest timing ever to befall me.

There is nothing wrong with me. How I wish there was in a way, because then there would be a reason for feeling like this. I'm relatively healthy, not overweight by much, pretty enough, intelligent enough, sucessful enough and by all rights I should be beaming.

I can't beam. Without you in my armsI feel so bad, because I can't give Rob reasons why I'm sad.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Autumn sun streamed down upon my braided hair. I suppose some would have called it an Indian Summer, but that would not have cut it, so to speak, if you had been there too.

If only you had been there. You always did love it when I wore my hair in plaits and tripped about in swirly skirts. Here the canals have not the grace of Amsterdam, the somewhat majestic architectural texture. These are more organic. For all their straight lines, the algae glowed orange and green on brick banks. This place is alive.

I laughed alot then. I rushed to peer into the houses running along side the canals as the Dutch don't 'do' net curtains. Some puritain thing about having nothing to hide. The modern, post - war clever houses snuck in between the older 17th Century ones like sheepish or unforthcoming guests.

Always onward I went. Looking. Searching. This place, this place was magic, like Vermeer paintings or LSD trips. The light caught water, caught white painted window frames and burst into fragments of colour like the pansies in the window boxes.

I was a poppy, swept along by the breeze that day. I ran round bicycles, I ignored ducks, my red skirts trailed as I blazed along my course.

It was there you know.

In the centre of the city, or rather what was. Leiden's Star. A fortress pointing the rose of the compass. You should have been there with me. You should have been. I climbed up stairs that had no railing or bannister. These were hewn from stone brought by boat. A journey embedded in masonary.

If only you had been there.

I stood for a long time. Letting the light seer into my eyeballs. The church roofs glittered, the chimneys of days gone by smoked in turn and I laughed.

Autumn sun streamed down upon my braided hair. I suppose some would have called it an Indian Summer, but that would not have cut it, so to speak, if you had been there too.

If only you had been there. You always did love it when I wore my hair in plaits and tripped about in swirly skirts. Here the canals have not the grace of Amsterdam, the somewhat majestic architectural texture. These are more organic. For all their straight lines, the algae glowed orange and green on brick banks. This place is alive.

I laughed alot then. I rushed to peer into the houses running along side the canals as the Dutch don't 'do' net curtains. Some puritain thing about having nothing to hide. The modern, post - war clever houses snuck in between the older 17th Century ones like sheepish or unforthcoming guests.

Always onward I went. Looking. Searching. This place, this place was magic, like Vermeer paintings or LSD trips. The light caught water, caught white painted window frames and burst into fragments of colour like the pansies in the window boxes.

I was a poppy, swept along by the breeze that day. I ran round bicycles, I ignored ducks, my red skirts trailed as I blazed along my course.

It was there you know.

In the centre of the city, or rather what was. Leiden's Star. A fortress pointing the rose of the compass. You should have been there with me. You should have been. I climbed up stairs that had no railing or bannister. These were hewn from stone brought by boat. A journey embedded in masonary.

If only you had been there.

I stood for a long time. Letting the light seer into my eyeballs. The church roofs glittered, the chimneys of days gone by smoked in turn and I laughed.